Crossroads
by Hellbitch
Summary: Missing scene. In the motel the morning after, the light of day forces a decision.


The first version of this story, posted on 2/9/06, garnered few reviews. That prompted me to re-evaluate how effective I was in showing my take on Ennis's conflict when faced with his future the morning after he and Jack renew their intimate acquaintance. This revision, finished on 2/13/06, was co-authored by my writing buddy and beta reader, who will soon go by the pen name "allspice" here. Although I created the skeleton, she put the flesh on its bones and I love her dearly for it. Hope this version defines Ennis's "crossroads" with greater clarity.

Comments are always welcome and much appreciated.

Hellbitch

**CROSSROADS**

The aged mattress creaked as Ennis shifted his weight upright and swung his legs over the side.

Habit. Habit and long days made him shut his eyes and rotate his neck to get the morning kinks out. When they opened, he saw one of Jack's boots standing upside down like a lone survivor among the scattered, discarded clothing.

_Jack._

Just the thought let his mouth soften into an unaccustomed half smile. _Jack Fucking Twist. _He glanced over his shoulder and was startled by the wide awake eyes observing him.

A scowl rushed to his rescue. "What you lookin' at?"

"Well ain't you a joy to wake up to." Jack yawned and the bed protested as he sat up, flexing his arms. "What time is it?"

"Dunno. Late, I think." Ennis stood, widening the gap.

"Ennis..."

"I gotta shower. Can't go back smelling like this."

Jack nodded. "You go on then."

Ennis's eyes narrowed slightly. Not like Jack to give in so easy.

"What?" Jack held both palms upward. "Go on. Take your shower."

Ennis stood his ground a moment longer, then with a glance of mistrust, went into the bathroom, a space so cramped it was more like a closet with plumbing. A crack ran down the middle of the aged mirror, but for the most part, his gaze shied away from reflections.

He stared at the shower a foot to his right and swallowed hard._ Just reach in. Turn on the fuckin' faucet. Wash yourself clean of him and go back where you swore to be in sickness and health._

Bile rose in his throat, a sudden surge that made him grab the sink in a two-handed death grip, but the pain that twisted his gut never found voice. Bowed over the sink, he stayed like that for a while – breath hard to come by.

_When did living start to feel the same as dying?_

A shudder ran through him, but he made himself push back from the sink to stand upright. His eyes caught on the mirror again and there it was. The face he went by. The one Alma woke up to everyday. _Yeah. Ain't you a joy. _He turned toward the shower and jerked the faucets on as he entered the stall. _Time to go, cowboy. _

He ripped the paper off the motel soap and ground the bar across the threadbare washcloth to raise a lather. Scrubbed hard and thorough like always, or maybe a little more. Not much different than hosing down a heifer.

The hot water heater was past retirement and the temperature had already started to cool by the time Jack stepped in to join him.

"What the hell!" Ennis sputtered. This wasn't some stream up on Brokeback. "Jack, what the fuck're you doing?"

"Getting your back. Turn around, cowboy."

A boulder had more give to it and Ennis planted himself firm. He couldn't take this now. Jack was over the line and he'd tell him so soon as he could grab hold of a straight thought.

"Ennis, for chrissake. Unless you developed talents I ain't yet seen, I doubt even you can reach all way round." Jack's mouth curved upward ever so slight, his eyes full of sparkle. "Now gimme that damn soap 'n rag and I promise not t'look."

Half-formed arguments never drew breath as Jack's hands covered his own, meaning to take what he asked for. A long moment passed in a stalemated stare-down, until finally Ennis shivered and let go. "Damn water's cold already," he muttered as he turned to face away.

At first he kept his focus on the drain between his feet while Jack worked the soapy rag in a small circle between his shoulder blades. Watched the water run as if it was going somewhere in an almighty hurry. But when Jack expanded his territory, Ennis shut his eyes and leaned his palms against the mildewed tile to keep himself upright.

Jack's hands moved across and up, following the road map of tension until he stowed the soap and rag in the two-bit holder and used the full expanse of both hands to ease the tightness of Ennis's shoulders and neck.

"Son-of-a-bitch" Ennis whispered, short on air.

Jack's single step forward closed the distance, put them skin against skin, and Ennis offered no objection to the arms that pulled him even tighter or the mouth that nuzzled his neck beneath the stubble line. Only when Jack's left hand began to roam did he resist.

"Goddamnit, Jack…."

"Shh now…." The words were pitched low to soothe and Ennis could feel the warm breath of them against his ear. Even more persuasive was the hand on the far side of his belt line, traveling a familiar trail. He bit hard on his lip, but a growl – one part pleasure, two parts anguish – tore its way loose.

Jack's embrace tightened, his murmurs reassured.

"Ennis…." A heartbeat of a pause and he felt Jack gather in his breath as if he'd need extra for the rush of words about to spill over. "It don't have to end like this … here, now." His hand dipped lower. Took hold. "Take a few days off. Hell, people do that all the time–"

Ennis whirled and shoved Jack into the shower wall with enough force to knock the words right out of his mouth. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, Jack," another, even harder shove and the soap holder fell with a clatter to their feet, "we ain't like other people."

For a moment, only the steady drizzle of the now tepid water filled the silence that fell between them. That and the hard heavy breathing of a horse that had run its race.

Something shifted in Jack's eyes as he crooked the neck that would be stiff by nightfall.

"You done, Ennis?" His glance took in the hand still on his chest and dipped to the balled fist at his side. "Or you still have a notion a couple punches will put it right for you again?"

Ennis flinched and dropped the hand that pressed Jack to the wall, leaving a red print to brand its place. His mouth struggled with itself, chewing on words he couldn't spit out.

"Y'know, friend, maybe you should give _this _some thought." Jack parted company with the shower wall, but kept a steady hold on the other man's eyes. "Back on Brokeback? End of summer when Aguirre called us down early? You were all pissed about him cheating us, but it weren't about the money at all, was it? That son-of-a-bitch cheated us outta time and now you're gonna do the same goddamn thing."

Ennis averted his gaze, too many things in those blue eyes to bear. He shifted in discomfort, shook out his fist. "Jack ... told you. Ain't like I got a choice no more."

Maybe a minute went by with them like that, quiet and unmoving, though it felt like hours, and still Ennis could not lift his head to look into Jack's face. There was no way he could take this sorrow again, no end that would leave him whole.

At last, Jack sighed and reached out to run his hand the length of Ennis's arm until their fingers touched and intertwined. "Ennis," he said, his voice whisper soft once more. "It's all right. I'll go."

The hand in Ennis's started to tug loose. Panic welled in his throat and instinct made him clamp his grip near hard enough to grind bone. Jack drew a sharp breath, but said nothing more. _Your turn now._ _Say something, say ... what?_ Ennis frowned at the floor, and then the answer came without thought. "Y'know, that fuckin' foreman, he owes me," he said, surprised at how right the words sounded once they were out. "Got at least a couple days comin' to me, I figure."

Jack's hold tightened, too. "Gonna write him a letter o' complaint?"

Ennis's eyes shot up to see Jack give him an open grin. His mouth twitched with the itch of a smile, and this time, when Jack pulled his hand to free it, Ennis found his breath didn't stop."I was thinkin' on it."

Jack reached behind to turn off the water. "Well, that won't take more'n a month o' Sundays." The shit-eating grin widened. Stepping out of the stall, he stripped the lone towel from its rack and snapped it at Ennis, who dodged with an errant chuckle. "Maybe you best get a move on it, cowboy. Seems to me we're burnin' daylight."


End file.
